


freckles

by raggedyanndy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, I just have a lot of feelings okay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 11:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggedyanndy/pseuds/raggedyanndy
Summary: Places that no one but Crowley gets to see





	freckles

**Author's Note:**

> no betas - we post our self-indulgent fluff like men-shaped beings of the world

Aziraphale has freckles on his right shoulder. He has freckles other places, too. Places that no one but Crowley gets to see – at least these days. Aziraphale probably hasn’t shown this much skin in nearly 2000 years. These freckles are for Crowley’s eyes only, and the ones on his upper arms, and the ones on his left shoulder, and, weirdly enough, the ones above his knees.

Crowley gets to see the faint white scar on his leg, a leftover from the War. He gets to see the stray dark hairs hidden at the nape of his neck. He gets to see the stretch marks on his torso (why they are there is beyond Crowley, their bodies having been formed fully made and not grown and changed and stretched at all). He gets to see the tiny hole in Aziraphale’s ear, a relic from a passing interest in earrings.

He does not, currently, get to see the dimples on Aziraphale’s bottom, as the angel has primly wrapped a sheet around his middle as he lies in bed reading. Aziraphale is on his stomach with his feet up in the air like a teenage girl in your average 80's teen flick.

“You look like a teenage girl,” Crowley tells him.

“In what possible way do I look like a teenage girl?”

“Like this,” Crowley says, and he flops onto his stomach next to Aziraphale, shaking the whole bed and kicking his feet up in the air. “You should be on the phone. You know, wrap the cord around your finger.” He demonstrates. “O M G,” he says, affecting a high pitched voice, “do you really think he’s going to ask me to the dance?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

Aziraphale is still reading. It looks like he might be near the end of the book, so Crowley stays quiet for a bit. He contents himself with observing those right shoulder freckles up close. 

Aziraphale turns a page. “I can feel you staring.”

“I like your freckles.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale doesn’t quite blush but doesn’t quite not blush. “Bit silly, aren’t they?”

“Shut up, angel.”

There are a few bigger brown splotches, surrounded by smaller ones, and a couple of teensy tiny specks that Crowley suspects not even the Romans saw. They are only visible very close up. Maybe he should count them.

Maybe he should count them with his tongue.

Aziraphale yelps, his whole body twitching. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Counting your freckles.”

“With your tongue?”

Crowley licks in response.

“Are you hungry, dear?”

“Maybe.” Crowley puts his open mouth on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Let me finish this book, dear, and we can get lunch.”

“Not that kind of hungry.”

Aziraphale swats at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

Quick as a snake, Crowley grabs his hand. “Oh, look, found another.” He licks a knuckle.

Aziraphale is finally looking at him instead of the book. Success, Crowley thinks.

Aziraphale starts to lean towards Crowley. “Incorrigible,” he says again, whispers really, as he hones in on Crowley’s lips.

“Who, me?”

And suddenly Crowley is being flipped onto his back, and an angel is plopping across his chest, his book – infuriating, stupid book with its tiny, tiny text – back in his hands.

“Oof,” Crowley says, rather belatedly.

“Now, I only have about 52 pages left, so please be patient, my dear.”

“Bastard,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale smiles.

Crowley now has Aziraphale’s left shoulder in front of his face. Ah, well, he thinks, and begins to count again.


End file.
